


May Our Children Have Strength to Let Go

by enigmaticblue



Series: Sun 'Verse [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wasn’t the last blood relation to turn up, but the Campbells were the ones to bring war to their door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Our Children Have Strength to Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, “dystopia,” and the title from the Over the Rhine song, “Another Christmas.” For my Sun ‘verse, set late 2017, after “The Good Stuff,” and before “Leaving the Nest.”

“ _This old world so sweet and so bitter, seeds of violence we humans have sown, and these weapons we still love to handle, may our children have strength to let go._ ” ~Over the Rhine, “Another Christmas”

 

“You and Julia and Aubrey are coming here on Christmas day, right?” Dean asked.

 

Sam nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Is it okay if Howl comes?”

 

“He’s family,” Dean agreed easily. “How are things going with you and Julia?”

 

Sam smiled, a soft expression on his face. “It’s been great. We’re taking things slow because Julia doesn’t want to get hurt again, and we know that if it doesn’t work out, it could make things fairly awkward.”

 

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Dean replied, and lifted a bottle of homebrew to his lips.

 

Sam was spending a rare night at Dean’s house after a long day working out in the cold at Howl’s checking and mending fences. Howl had sent a bit of Christmas cheer home with Sam as a gift and a thank you, since his arthritis didn’t let him do much when it was this cold.

 

“You need some help with the annual shopping trip this year?” Sam asked. “I’d be happy to go with Cas, or to drive you.”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know yet. My knee hasn’t been too bad recently, and it might be nice for us to take the trip together. If we do go, we’ll leave in a couple of weeks.”

 

“I need to buy presents for Julia and Aubrey anyway,” Sam said. “And I had a good time last year.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean replied with a smile, relaxing in Sam’s presence, content in the knowledge that his brother was settling down.

 

The domesticity of their conversation might be a bit on the mundane side, but for hunters, Dean suspected that mundane might feel pretty damn good for a change of pace.

 

Cas joined them at the kitchen table, looking weary but pleased. “The kids are down for the night. Cora needed two stories before she agreed that she was sleepy enough.”

 

Sam smirked. “She’s a handful.”

 

“She’s the youngest,” Dean replied. “And she knows exactly what she can get away with. At least this time of the year, we can threaten to withhold her Christmas presents.”

 

Sam laughed. “No Santa Claus?”

 

“We never introduced the concept,” Dean admitted. “It would be just our luck that we’d get some demon or pretend god in town, and they’d let him into the house.”

 

Sam grimaced. “Oh, yeah, I could see that happening, especially with Cora.”

 

“We’ve tried to teach her to be cautious, but with limited success,” Cas replied ruefully.

 

“She feels safe,” Sam observed. “There are worse things to say about your kids.”

 

Dean smiled. “True.”

 

Sam drained the last of his beer. “Okay, I’m for bed. See you two tomorrow.”

 

“You home for dinner tomorrow?” Dean asked.

 

“I have to go to Howl’s in the morning, but I’m off in the afternoon,” Sam replied. “You need any help around here?”

 

Dean shrugged. “That last storm knocked a few shingles loose, so if you want to help Cas get those nailed down, that would be great.”

 

“No problem,” Sam replied, and pressed a hand to Dean’s shoulder as he passed. “Good night, Dean. ‘Night, Cas.”

 

Dean tried to keep the grin off his face, but he knew he wasn’t successful.

 

“It’s good to have him here,” Cas stated. “He’s a good man.”

 

Trust Cas to know what he was thinking. “Yeah, it is good. Two Christmases in a row, even.”

 

Cas reached out and grabbed the bottle out of Dean’s hand, draining the rest of it in one go. “Come to bed, Dean.”

 

Dean didn’t need to be asked twice.

 

~~~~~

 

Sam was asleep when Ben shook him awake. “Uncle Sam!”

 

“Huh? What?” Sam asked.

 

“I heard wheels on the gravel,” Ben whispered, “but there aren’t any lights.”

 

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. “Can you get up to the house without being seen?”

 

Ben snorted. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Take Mary, wake Dean and Cas, and get the kids into a safe location,” Sam ordered.

 

There was a lockbox under his bed with a combination, just as there was under Ben’s bed. Ben was already armed, but Sam pulled out the box, spun the numbers, and removed the hunting rifle with the scope.

 

He’d adjusted for the loss of an eye over time, but the scope helped, particularly when there was so little light.

 

Sam hastily shoved his feet into his boots as Ben woke Mary and led her up to the house. He watched from the shadows as they eased the door open just wide enough to let them through, and then Sam followed, taking up a position halfway between the barn and the house, behind the large tree.

 

He could see them coming, but they wouldn’t be able to see him.

 

The truck was a Ford, an older model, with a cover over the bed. It was too dark to make out who was in the car, but he thought he saw two of them.

 

He brought the rifle up to his shoulder and waited. The driver parked and then slowly opened the door, holding out their hands. “Hello?”

 

“Who’s there?” Sam called.

 

“I’m Gwen Campbell,” she replied. “I’m looking for Dean Winchester. We’re distant cousins on his mother’s side.”

 

“Who do you have with you?” Sam asked, not ready to let down his guard.

 

He heard the door open behind him, and both Dean and Cas stepped out on the porch, both with rifles in their hands.

 

“It’s my cousin, Christian,” she calls. “He’s been shot.”

 

Sam kept his position, waiting for Dean’s call. He saw Dean glance at Cas, and Cas’ nod, and Dean said, “All right, bring him inside. Sam, cover us.”

 

Sam knew that meant Dean trusted what the woman said for now, with Cas’ verification. Sam was to stay armed, to make sure they didn’t try anything. He’d prefer a pistol, not a rifle for that, and when he followed the man and woman into the house, Ben held out a 9 mm, exchanging that for Sam’s rifle.

 

When they step inside, into the light, Sam could see the bloody bandages around Christian’s leg. Ben helped Gwen get Christian into the living room and onto the couch. Sam saw the other kids watching from the stairway.

 

“Bed!” Dean called, his voice almost harsh, and Sam knew that whatever he thought about their visitors, he didn’t trust them with his kids.

 

Sam contrasted that with his own reception, which hadn’t exactly been warm, but had none of the same wariness. Then again, he and Dean had a lot of history between them, good and bad, and blood or not, these people were strangers.

 

“I’m sorry to barge in at this hour,” Gwen said, pushing her dark hair back from her face, her hands still dotted with dried blood. “I just wasn’t sure how bad he was hurt. I drove to the nearest place where I thought we might be safe.”

 

“Cas,” Dean said.

 

“I’ll get the supplies,” Cas replied. “You sit.”

 

Dean sat, and Sam leaned in the doorway with the 9 mm in his hand.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Dean said.

 

Christian looked to be older than Dean, with lines around his eyes and mouth that hinted at a hard life. His light brown hair was liberally streaked with gray, and he appeared pale and weary. “We had a bit of trouble in Rapid City, but we got out of it,” he said.

 

That was a little light on the details, but Sam had seen enough of the country to know that while the violence might be concentrated on the coasts and the big cities, there were pockets of lawlessness across the Midwest, too.

 

Their world was not what it was, but Sam had been lulled into complacency here. Cypress Grove was an island of peace in a nation at war with itself.

 

“There was a misunderstanding over a hotel room we were renting,” Gwen added. “We just need a place to lie low for a few days until Christian is okay to travel.”

 

Sam glanced at Dean. Supposedly, the Campbells were family of a sort—blood kin without any other ties to them, or this place. “Were you coming here?” Sam asked.

 

Christian shrugged, and there was something in his expression that worried Sam, although he couldn’t put his finger on why. “We thought we’d stop through, but we didn’t want to impose. I’m sorry we had to do so.”

 

Cas returned with his arms full of first aid supplies. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

 

Sam thought Christian had been lucky—the wound to his thigh was a through and through, and obviously hadn’t hit his femoral artery, or he would have bled out in short order.

 

Cas had plenty of experience patching people up, and he made quick work of Christian’s leg.

 

“Are you two hungry?” Dean asked as Cas finished up. “Or do you want something to drink? We’ve got water, but not much else.”

 

Gwen managed a smile. “Yes to both, but we have a few things in the truck. We didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

 

“Sam, go with her,” Dean ordered. “I’ll stay here with Christian.”

 

“You don’t trust us,” Gwen observed as they headed for her truck.

 

Sam tucked the gun into the back of his belt. “Dean has kids, and he’s protective. We don’t have anything but your word as to what happened in Rapid City. If someone’s after you, Dean doesn’t want it to touch the little ones.”

 

“Quite the idyll you’ve found here,” Gwen said, sounding wistful. “When we asked around, everybody said that nothing ever happens in Cypress Grove.”

 

Sam hesitated. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s a good place.”

 

“I’ve thought about settling down somewhere like this, but I have no idea what we’d do,” Gwen replied. “Plus, the boredom would get to Christian pretty quickly.”

 

Sam frowned. “I wouldn’t say I’m bored here.”

 

“Well, no, if you decided to stay here, I could see why you wouldn’t be bored,” Gwen replied. “But it takes a certain kind, right?”

 

Sam decided not to respond to that. Maybe there were times when a piece of him missed being out on the road, and missed the adrenalin of the hunt. But then he’d wake up next to Julia, or hear Ben snoring lightly across the room, or feel Casey’s hard hug, or drink a beer with his brother…

 

There were a hundred moments that outweighed whatever regrets Sam had about leaving the road and hunting behind.

 

Plus, here in Cypress Grove, Sam could believe that he and Dean had made a difference, made the world a little better place. Their world might be small, but it was a good one.

 

The box Gwen directed him to retrieve was filled with items that they didn’t see that often—Jim Beam, a six-pack of Bud, a pound of Folgers, and chocolate.

 

“A bribe?” Sam asked as he hefted the box.

 

Gwen shrugged. “Sometimes you need to grease a few palms, and if we don’t have enough cash, things like this can make the difference.”

 

“Makes sense,” Sam said and led the way back into the house.

 

“Drinks all around!” Christian said. “Including one for my young friend here.”

 

Ben frowned and glanced at Dean. “That’s okay. Alcohol isn’t really my thing.”

 

Christian’s smirk put Sam’s back up, and probably had the same effect on Dean and Ben as well. “Jim Beam will put hair on your chest,” he said.

 

“I think I like my chest just the way it is,” Ben said mildly. “Dad, I’m going up to check on the others.”

 

“Bunk up there tonight,” Dean replied. “Tell Mary to take the younger ones and go out to the barn.”

 

Ben nodded. “Sure thing, Dad.”

 

“I wouldn’t touch your kids, Dean,” Christian said, his eyes hard.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know you. According to Cas, you’re blood kin, which gives you a certain amount of leeway, but I look after my kids. We can get you back on your feet and ready to travel.”

 

“And out the door?” Gwen asked, sounding hurt. “Cold.”

 

“Realistic,” Dean countered. “Although, if you want to stay in Cypress Grove, we might be able to help you get settled.”

 

Christian sneered. “Not in a backwater like this. I was surprised to hear that the famous Winchesters wound up here. I figured you’d be like your old man, and die with your gun in your hand.”

 

“There’s no such thing as an old hunter,” Dean replied, an edge to his voice. “There are only dead ones and ones that hit mandatory retirement. Lucky for you, that wound won’t keep you on the injured list for long.”

 

“I’ll go grab the cots,” Sam offered. “And some bedding.”

 

“I’ll help,” Cas said.

 

When they were out of earshot, Sam asked, “How did you know that they’re related to us?”

 

Cas raised an eyebrow. “I know everything about Dean, Sam, and that includes all relatives. I recognized them.”

 

“And?”

 

Cas hitched a shoulder. “They’re hunters, and they’re very good at killing things.”

 

“So, not good people?”

 

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted. “They might be good. It has been a long time since I was in a position to know.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dean found it difficult to sleep with strangers in his house. Folks in Cypress Grove tended to be fairly welcoming, but they also displayed a certain amount of wariness. Dean wasn’t sure anybody he knew around here would willingly allow someone they didn’t know, who hadn’t been vouched for, to sleep under their roof.

 

He knew they were blood, but there was something that bothered him about this situation.

 

“Would you like me to stay up?” Cas asked softly. “At least for part of the night?”

 

Dean smiled, grateful for Cas’ insight. “I’ll wake you up if it looks like I might be able to sleep, but right now, I’m too unsettled.”

 

“They wouldn’t have had to stay in the house,” Cas pointed out. “You could have put them in the barn.”

 

Dean shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Not with his leg. It didn’t make sense to have him walk across the yard like that. Besides, I told Mary to block the trapdoor. The kids are safer there.”

 

“So, what’s bothering you?” Cas asked.

 

Dean sighed. “I don’t know. Gwen seems okay, but Christian—my gut tells me there’s something up with him.”

 

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “He is an asshole.”

 

Dean laughed. “But it’s more than that.”

 

“Yes, well, better to keep your enemies close.”

 

“Exactly,” Dean agreed. “Which is why I kept Henry and Ben here, and why they’re both armed.” He sighed. “I feel like we’re missing something.”

 

Cas was quiet, and then he swore. “Dean, we’ve become complacent.”

 

“Okay, that’s what I was just saying, but—”

 

The sound of a gunshot rang out, and Dean could hear Ben’s panicked shout. “Back off! Back off!”

 

Dean stumbled out of bed and fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table for the knife that he always kept there. Guns were good for a lot of things, but the knife would kill just about anything, even the things regular bullets didn’t hurt.

 

Christian had Ben against the wall, his hands around Ben’s throat, and Cas, as the first to reach them, tried to drag Christian off.

 

Christian casually pushed him back, sending Cas flying, and Dean narrowly missed getting bowled over.

 

Henry was standing in the doorway of the boys’ room, a rifle held in trembling hands, and he cried out, “I don’t want to hit Ben!”

 

Gwen emerged from the girls’ room, and cried out, “What’s going on?” and then she let out a wordless cry when Christian looked over at her, his eyes demon-black.

 

They could have tried the exorcism, but Sam ran up the stairs, and he said, “Dean, do it! We don’t have the means to restrain him. Not with the kids around.”

 

And Dean knew that was true. If the demon left Christian, it could take over one of the kids, and Dean didn’t hesitate before plunging the knife into Christian’s back.

 

“Papa Dean?” Henry asked, sounding near tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have a clear shot, but I thought—”

 

There was too much happening at once, and Dean looked at Cas.

 

“I will take care of this,” Cas said. “Go to Henry, Dean.”

 

Dean glanced at Ben and Sam. “I’ve got Gwen,” Sam said, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her away.

 

Ben nodded, his voice a little hoarse, but he stood up straight. “I’ll help Cas, Dad. Don’t worry about me.”

 

Dean took the rifle from Henry’s trembling hands, and put an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Henry. Let’s sit down, okay? You’re okay.”

 

“I couldn’t get a clear shot,” Henry repeated. “I’m sorry, Papa Dean. I let you down.”

 

Dean sat Henry down on the edge of his bed, laying the rifle down on the floor. The knife was still in Christian’s chest, but Dean trusted Cas to retrieve it.

 

“Look at me, Henry,” Dean said softly, sitting next to him. “I mean it, look at me.”

 

Henry looked at him, his eyes wide and wet. “I fucked up.”

 

“No, son, you did just what I asked you to do,” Dean replied. “You helped protect your brother, and raised the alarm. You didn’t fire in a panic and didn’t take a shot when you didn’t have it.”

 

Henry shook his head. “But I didn’t kill him! I’m not like you!”

 

Dean gave him a little shake. “Henry, I want you to listen to me, and listen good.”

 

He waited until Henry met his eyes, his lower lip trembling. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Cas, Sam, and I were the ones that fucked this up,” Dean said. “Cypress Grove is pretty safe, and we forgot all the things we used to do just as a matter of course, because it’s safe.”

 

Henry sniffed. “Like what?”

 

“Like using holy water on pretty much everybody,” Dean replied. “Like using silver just to make sure someone is what they say they are. And we should have known better because we just saw that with Casey, that sometimes the world out there comes to us.”

 

Henry swiped the back of his hand across his nose. “But I didn’t take the shot.”

 

Dean sighed. “You still did the right thing. Sometimes the right thing to do is nothing, because doing something just makes it worse.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Henry whispered.

 

“Then understand this,” Dean replied. “I never want you to be in a position where you have to kill to survive. It might happen, because I can’t promise it won’t, but I want you, and Ben, and everybody else to have the chance to be safe and happy.”

 

Henry looked at him. “But what if Ben had been hurt?”

 

“Then I would never have forgiven myself for letting them have a place in our house,” Dean said. “That was my call, and not yours.”

 

Dean felt like he’d gotten softer over the years, exchanging semi-automatic weapons for hugs and tea parties and bandaging skinned knees.

 

He wanted his children to be tough enough to survive, but he didn’t want them to be hunters. He wanted them to be safe, but he didn’t want them to be forced to kill.

 

“You should sleep now, Henry,” Dean said. “You’re safe, and it’s late. Sleep.”

 

He sat with Henry until his breathing evened out, and Dean was reassured by how quickly he dropped off, tear tracks drying on his cheeks.

 

Someone, probably Cas and Ben, had already moved Christian’s body, and the only evidence of the scuffle was a few drops of blood on the carpet that they’d need to clean up before the kids got up in the morning.

 

Sam, Cas, Ben and Gwen were in the kitchen when Dean limped in. Gwen was staring at the table, her expression stricken. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know what he was. He’d been different recently, but I thought—I don’t know.”

 

“We have to test you,” Sam said. “We should have done it first thing when you arrived, but I guess we thought that there weren’t any demons left after what happened.”

 

“I’ll take whatever tests you want,” Gwen replied dully.

 

“Christos,” Dean said.

 

“They already tried that,” Gwen replied wearily. “I told them, I don’t know what happened, or when he was possessed. We’ve stuck together since the beginning, since our grandfather was killed.”

 

Dean sat down at the table. “Cas, can you take care of the holy water?”

 

“Of course,” Cas replied. “I’ll return soon.”

 

Silence reigned over the kitchen until Cas appeared about thirty minutes later with a Mason jar full of water. Gwen drank half of it without prompting, and without bursting into flames. That was good enough for Dean.

 

“Gwen, tell us what happened in Rapid City,” Dean urged.

 

Gwen pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I don’t know. We’d rented a motel room while we were looking for you. We had enough money, so when Christian got into a firefight, and he said the guy was trying to extort us, I believed him.”

 

“Whose idea was it to look for us?” Sam asked.

 

Gwen looked stricken. “Christian’s. I thought, I don’t know. I’d been talking about maybe finding a safe place, sticking around for a bit, but he was never interested. A couple of months ago, we heard a rumor about a couple of Winchesters who took out a werewolf around this area. We didn’t have anything better to do, so we headed this way.”

 

“When did he change?” Cas queried. “Was it before or after you heard about us?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “He’s always been kind of a dick, but he’s family, you know? After grandpa was killed, it was really just the two of us, and he always looked out for me.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then said, “Right before, actually. We were looking for work, and Christian has—had—always been good about finding something, but he didn’t that time. We were in, um, Chicago. And then he heard the rumor about you guys and decided to track you down instead of wintering over.”

 

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “We haven’t had a case of demon possession in years. It’s possible that they still harbor a grudge against Dean for stopping the apocalypse.”

 

“Then why go after Ben?” Dean demanded. “Why not shoot me?”

 

Cas frowned. “If he had killed your son, would that have been worse for you than dying yourself?”

 

“Of course!” Dean snapped, and then he paused. “Oh, shit.”

 

“If they wished to hurt you, they would go after me, or Sam, or Ben, or perhaps one of the other children, but Ben was probably the easiest target tonight,” Cas said “Or the demon thought he was.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Gwen said. “I really am. I never would have—I’d have exorcised him, or gutted him myself before I brought that to your door.”

 

Dean supposed that they were probably lucky that Christian had tried going after Ben tonight, rather than waiting to attack one of the other kids. When Dean thought about the damage he could have done to one of the younger ones—

 

It didn’t bear thinking about.

 

“We should be grateful that it wasn’t worse,” Dean finally said. “Ben and Henry are fine, and that’s what we have to focus on.”

 

Gwen winced, probably because she wasn’t nearly so happy about Christian being dead, and Dean understood. If Sam had been possessed and had hurt someone, and then had been killed, Dean would have been pissed as hell.

 

To be honest, he probably would have torn the whole world apart in his grief.

 

“I should never have come here,” Gwen said. “I shouldn’t have allowed it.”

 

Dean didn’t know what to say, or whether he should absolve her, but Sam stepped in. “It’s late, and it’s been a shitty day, so let’s just go to bed.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Gwen said faintly.

 

Dean mustered up some sympathy. “I’m sorry for what happened to your cousin.”

 

“Me, too,” Gwen replied bitterly, and Dean didn’t have the first idea of how to comfort her.

 

~~~~~

 

Sam didn’t go back to sleep that night, and he’d have been surprised if Dean or Cas had either. He wasn’t all that surprised to look up from his book in the early dawn hours to see Gwen sneaking toward the door.

 

“You don’t have to leave,” he said, causing her to jump.

 

“I can’t imagine my welcome is all that warm around here,” she replied. “I feel like an idiot for not seeing the signs.”

 

Sam shrugged. “We’re all guilty of not seeing our loved ones clearly.”

 

“I have to go,” Gwen said after a pause. “I’m sure that you and Dean and the rest would be great. You’d offer to help, and maybe I’d take you up on it, but this is always going to be the house where Christian died, and you’re always going to be the people who killed him. No offense.”

 

“None taken,” Sam said. “If it had been my brother, I’d feel the same way.”

 

Gwen smiled, a little tearfully. “You’ve got a good thing here, Sam. These kids—Dean’s boy—they’re good kids, and they’ve got a better chance than any of us ever had.”

 

“Yeah, they do,” Sam agreed. “Look, if you ever do come through here again, look us up. We won’t hold it against you—although we’ll probably ask you to drink holy water before you cross the threshold.”

 

“Fair,” she said. “You should probably do that with everybody.”

 

Sam shrugged. “Or we’ll find another way to dose them without them knowing about it. We can always keep a pitcher in the fridge. We should have been doing that anyway.”

 

Gwen managed a tremulous smile. “Good luck, Sam.”

 

“You too,” Sam called softly, and listened as he heard her truck head up the driveway.

 

“She left.”

 

Sam glanced at Dean, who’d appeared in the doorway of the living room. “Can you blame her?”

 

Dean sighed. “No. God, no.” He sat next to Sam. “It’s times like these I wonder if we’re really doing anybody any good, you know?”

 

Sam leaned back against the couch cushions, tipping his head back. “I know I told you about the riots, and what I did in Los Angeles.”

 

“You did what you had to do to survive, Sammy,” Dean immediately protested, and how like Dean it was to defend him.

 

A year ago, he probably would have bristled, but right now, Sam was thinking about Gwen, and her lonely road, and the fact that they’d just had a taste of the outside world.

 

Dean looked after people, and Sam couldn’t resent him for it, not anymore.

 

“There was a girl, about Mary’s age,” Sam said. “She was—she was beautiful, and so angry, and she was waving a gun around. I shot her, drilled her right through the head. That was just before I lost the eye.”

 

Dean was silent, watchful.

 

“I think about that girl sometimes, and I wonder if I lost the eye for a reason, before I lost my soul out there,” Sam admitted. “It’s easy to do.”

 

Dean nodded. “I could see why it would be.”

 

“I’m saying that even if Christian hadn’t been possessed, maybe he would have been just as lost, and maybe he would have needed killing just as much,” Sam continued. “And maybe that could have been me, too, and I would have shown up, and you would have needed to put me down.”

 

Dean was already shaking his head, “No, Sammy. Never.”

 

“Maybe,” Sam said. “And maybe not, but it’s you and Cas and the kids, and everybody here that makes me think things could be different someday.”

 

Dean stretched out his legs and looked up at the ceiling. “I look at the little ones sometimes, and I think how old I was when Dad put a gun in my hand, and I don’t want that for them,” he admitted. “But I don’t know how to balance it.”

 

Sam thought of Aubrey, and he knew that he’d teach the boy to handle a gun, and folks around here would understand that.

 

But he didn’t want to raise a soldier, and he knew Dean didn’t either.

 

“I think you’re doing just fine,” Sam said. “We’re going to be fine. We have each other.”

 

“So we do,” Dean murmured, and that was all that needed to be said.


End file.
